


The Tales Dead Men Tell

by shelny18



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Rome, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a skeleton is found by archaeology students, they start to wonder what stories it would tell if it could still speak. However, the tales they imagine couldn't be farther from the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I went to a university open day and the lecturer spent /an hour/ talking about slavery and eunuchs. So I thought this up. I apologise and lay the blame entirely at this guy's door (not that I can even remember his name).  
> Anything in italics is from modern day, the rest is set in Rome, around the time of the Emperors though I haven't decided which yet. The names of the students are their last names, seeing as Roman citizens had about three names.  
> Any mistakes, you have my apologies, and I blame my current Classics teacher for teaching me the wrong stuff.

_"Hey, Pete, come look at this!" The girl excitedly waved her hand as high as she could until her friend peeked over the edge of the trench, frowning down at her._

_"Is there a reason why you're so deep down?" he asked quietly, counting the different layers of soil down to where she was standing._

_"I found a body!" she announced excitedly, sinking down to her knees to start excavating again. "At least, I found a bone. Hopefully it'll be a body!"_

_"Need any help?" Pete offered instantly, already looking for a safe way down._

_"Sure, just can you get the camera first?" Rhian looked up sheepishly. "I'm too small to get out without help."_

_"I'll be right back," he promised, trying not to laugh at her._

_Whilst she waited she continued uncovering the bones, finally discovering enough the top of the skull. The young archaeology student rested on the balls of her feet, gazing down at the half-buried skull, wondering what stories the person would have been able to tell her were they still alive..._

* * *

Combeferre looked up as the curtain was ripped to the ground, noticing the glint in Enjolras's eyes and suddenly fearing for the safety of everything on his table.

"What's up?" he asked, placing the scroll next to him and standing, walking over to join his friend in the doorway.

"What's this I hear about you letting my mother buy a new slave?" Enjolras cried angrily, glaring at Combeferre. "Already! It's only a week since I freed the last one!"

"If you stopped freeing them, she'd stop getting new ones," Combeferre pointed out, knowing there was no way for him to escape this argument.

"It's morally wrong," Enjolras countered, "to own slaves. They are human beings as well. Plus father always mistreats them when he's in town-"

"Which he's not," interrupted Combeferre, placing a calming hand on Enjolras's shoulder. "He's off fighting the Druids."

"I swear to god I'll free him," Enjolras threatened, pulling away and running a hand through his hair. "She wants him to be my personal slave! Of all the outrageous things my mother has ever suggested, this is by far the worst."

"Well it wasn't like I could stop her. She's not my mother, I was merely requested to accompany her while she ventured into town."

"Dammit 'Ferre, don't you know where he's from?" Combeferre shook his head. He'd tried to ignore Julia Enjolria buying the new slave, instead focusing on the nearby scroll stall. "Gaul."

"Well damn." No wonder Enjolras was so upset. "He's one of us then."

"Except our fathers joined the blessed Roman army and so became Roman citizens and married Roman women," Enjolras spat out. "Making us one of them. He's only a boy, it's not fair."

"He's almost the same age as us," Combeferre said mildly, sitting back down on the bench.

"And that makes it better? He's only sixteen."

"And we are eighteen yet counted as men and expected to die for our country in battle, plus there are slaves far younger than him in the world. You cannot save them all, Enjolras."

"I could try." Enjolras sank down next to Combeferre and rested his head in his hands. "I don't want a personal slave," he whispered.

"I know," Combeferre said quietly, patting his shoulder. "You can still treat him well though. Life as a slave doesn't have to be all bad. At least he has somewhere to live and food to eat - if you free him, he could lose that."

"Dominus, Courfeyrac has arrived."

The pair looked to the doorway where the young slave stood, eyes fixed on Combeferre.

"Thank you Eponine," he said with a small smile. "Take him through to the peristylium and tell him I'll be there in just a moment." He looked back at Enjolras once she'd left again. "I must go, or I will never hear the end of it from Courfeyrac. Can I not convince you to stay? One extra for dinner will make no difference, we're already eating late enough as it is."

"Except it was you he wanted to talk to," Enjolras reminded him, "not me, and I have a new slave to meet, remember? I want to know if what Merope said is true, about his age and how thin he looks."

"Of course it is. This is Merope, she loves you to bits." Standing, he gave Enjolras a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay. I'll call round tomorrow. You can let yourself out."

"Sure." Enjolras sat there in silence for a few minutes after Combeferre had left before standing and making his way to the door, slowly heading back into the night and to his own home only two streets away. He'd barely entered the house when Merope, his old nurse, was in front of him, clucking despairingly.

"Have you any idea how late it is? Your mother was worried, she was about to send Bahorel out searching for you."

"That's not Bahorel's job, he's only supposed to be the doorman," Enjolras said wearily, not stopping as he made his way over to the household shrine, placing his offering for the day down. "Where is mother?"

"In the triclinium, talking to the new boy. You should go reassure her you're safe."

"I will do." Kissing Merope's forehead, he smiled at her. "And you should get some sleep. You're not getting any younger and I know what time you wake up at."

"Bless you but you know full well I can't sleep till the domina does. Go on, along with you now. I still have jobs to do." The old Greek slave watched him walk further into the house, a fond smile on her face as she did so. She'd helped bring the boy up and he was like the son she'd never had, even now when he was considered a man.

"Mother, you shouldn't send Bahorel out to do things that aren't his job, it's not fair on him," Enjolras started as soon as he entered the triclinium, though he fell silent almost instantly upon clapping eyes on the young man standing next to his mother. He was shorter than Enjolras and dreadfully thin, yet Enjolras couldn't pull his eyes away. There was a liveliness in his eyes that not even being a slave could take away, and the hollowness of his cheeks couldn't detract much from his looks. His dark hair had been cut short, as was traditional with every slave, but Enjolras knew instinctively that it had once been long, maybe from how little this new haircut suited the boy.

"Oh Enjolras, thank the gods you're finally home," his mother exclaimed, not noticing the way her son was staring. "You shouldn't stay out so late, you know. Oh, and this is your new slave."

"I don't need a personal slave," he gritted out, forcing his eyes to flick to her.

"Nonsense, you're man of the house now, of course you need a slave. Bahorel can't do it, you know, he's far too busy. Now, don't worry, the boy speaks perfect Latin so you'll be able to understand him." Enjolras had long since stopped trying to remind his mother that he was fluent in more than just Greek and Latin.

"Yes mother," he sighed. "Look, I'm tired. I'm going to retire for the night. I will see you tomorrow."

She gave the slave next to her a pointed look as Enjolras left the room and he took the hint, following the blonde haired man silently.

"I don't need your help," Enjolras said once they reached his room, pushing the boy away as he tried to unfasten the toga. "I can manage."

"It's my job." He sounded almost bitter, and Enjolras didn't blame him.

But besides that, it wasn't fair, Enjolras decided. The slave's voice was almost as captivating as his face, and he found himself wanting to hear more.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly, feeling guilty for the feelings stirred up by this newcomer.

"Grantaire."

"Well Grantaire, I won't tell anyone if you won't." Seeing the pallet laid out at the foot of his bed, Enjolras groaned, realising that the man currently occupying his thoughts was going to be sleeping in the same room as him. "Get some sleep," he ordered when Grantaire gave him a confused look, flopping down onto the bed still fully clothed and closing his eyes, hoping sleep would come fast. The last words he heard as he dozed off was Grantaire quietly replying with "Yes dominus," as he lay down.

* * *

_"A body! That's excellent! Keep digging you two, you might learn a lot from this."_

_Grinning at each other, Rhian and Pete carried on their careful excavation, one removing the soil surrounding the bones whilst the other brushed it off the bones themselves, slowly but surely revealing more and more of their mystery person. It was the first time the students had discovered a skeleton of any kind, and they were determined to learn all they could._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge gap between chapters here. Life has been hectic, I got caught up writing other chapters, I lost the notebook I'd written the first half of this chapter in, and then my laptop broke. However, here you go. Hopefully I'll be able to update faster in future.

Enjolras had spent the first few hours of the morning trying to ignore Grantaire, rising at dawn and almost managing to finish dressing himself before the slave was on his feet and insisting on helping. As the day passed he did his best to avoid him, sending the younger man out on the easiest errands he could think of whilst he studied, struggling to banish all thoughts of the slave from his mind. He only stopped sending Grantaire on these jobs when his mother scolded him for presenting the new slave with so many opportunities to escape before his loyalties had grown properly. Enjolras didn't bother attempting to explain how he already knew he could trust Grantaire - his mother did not believe in gut feelings. After that he persuaded Bahorel to take Grantaire under his wing and teach him basic skills.

For the next few days he succeeded in keeping away from Grantaire, bar nights when he had no choice but to sleep in the same room. At meal times he could sneak out to any of his friend's houses, knowing they were nowhere near as traditional as his mother and would not insist on slaves serving them while they either sat at the table or occasionally reclined to eat. The rest of the time, however, he was stuck in his home, often only rooms away from his own personal slave.

"I don't even agree with slavery," he complained to his friends one afternoon, having escaped under the excuse of lessons. Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had shared the same tutor since the age of five, after their parents had been advised against one-on-one lessons, and even now, at almost nineteen and counted as men, the trio met with Valjean at least once a week. The lesson on rhetoric had finished over an hour ago, but neither friend was in a hurry to leave Combeferre's house. Courfeyrac lay on the grass in the garden, staring up at the clouds as Combeferre sat on the bench reading and Enjolras paced angrily.

"So free him," Courfeyrac shrugged.

"Then he loses what little protection he has," Combeferre sighed. "Like I told Enjolras, if he's freed, he loses his home and would starve to death on the streets."

"Only reason I haven't," Enjolras muttered darkly. "It's getting harder to avoid him as well.. He's also getting better at finding me now he knows the house better."

"Why are you trying to avoid him so much anyway?" Combeferre asked. "This is coming from more than just your hatred of slavery."

"I... Well, that is... He..." Enjolras stumbled over his words as he tried to think of a way to explain this without embarrassing himself. "He's kinda good-looking," he mumbled quickly, blushing as he avoided their eyes. Courfeyrac smirked evilly and pushed himself up onto his elbows, eyes following Enjolras as he started pacing again.

"Aww, little Enjy has a crush," he teased, laughing as the blush darkened.

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre warned, looking up from his scroll.

"What? Just asking!"

"Fine, yes, I do!" Enjolras snapped, glaring at his friends. "I can't help it, okay? It's his eyes and his hair and his lips and his goddamn _voice_ and Jupiter help me I can't do this!"

"So kiss him." Courfeyrac managed to make the suggestion sound very reasonable. "It's not like it's illegal to sleep with a slave." Somehow Combeferre managed to stop his gaze from lingering on Eponine as she passed, rolling his eyes as the smirk on Courfeyrac's face grew.

"It's not that simple," the blonde sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I feel like I'd be taking advantage. He's sixteen! Plus I don't know how he feels about me, he may not think of me like that. In fact, he probably doesn't. And even if he does, which is unlikely, I don't know what I'm doing with anything like that."

"Ask him," Combeferre suggested.

"You're both useless," Enjolras grumbled. "I can't do that either. I can barely say hello to him."

"Then you'd best get used to living with him."

* * *

After a week his mother started to make comments about their country house.

"It needs sorting before we can visit, and winter _is_ over now," she started that dinner, and he focused on her words purely so he could ignore Grantaire standing just behind him.

"I'm studying with Combeferre and Courfeyrac," he tried, hating the villa that his mother's family had given as a dowry. "The Emperor himself is attending the meetings next week, I can't not go."

"So go the week after. That works even better, your father will be back then and I won't be left alone. You can take Bahorel and Grantaire if your father arrives home on time. If not, then just Grantaire."

"Yes mother," Enjolras sighed, realising just how useless it would be to fight any more.

"Why did you not want to go?" Grantaire asked quietly that night, not meeting Enjolras's eyes as he folded his master's toga.

"Because I hate it there," Enjolras replied bitterly, helping Grantaire move some scrolls from his bed. "My mother goes because it's a reminder to everyone that we have money enough to afford a second house, and my father because he likes to show people he has earned himself a high position in society even if he started off a farmer in Gaul."

"Where is your father? Your mother mentioned at dinner that he's due back, but where from?" He flushed slightly when Enjolras glanced over at him. "That is, if you don't mind me asking."

"He's in England, fighting the druids. If he wins another battle, they say he'll become a General."

"Aren't you proud of him?"

"He's a bastard," Enjolras spat. "He's a cruel man who enjoys others' pain. He suits the Roman Army. And the way he treats slaves is disgusting, it's as if he forgets they are human too."

"Is that why you treat me with indifference? So you cannot become like him?"

Enjolras's head span round to stare at Grantaire.

"Not exactly," he said reluctantly. "I would never be purposefully cruel to another human. At least, not purposefully. Combeferre once said I could be terrible at times, but I try not to lose my temper. Don't always succeed though.," It was his turn to flush as Grantaire's lips curled upwards into a smile.

"Ah, so you do have a flaw."

"I have plenty," Enjolras shrugged.

"You hide them well."

"Um, thanks... I think." Enjolras tore his eyes away from Grantaire's after a couple of minutes of (surprisingly unawkward) silence. "Get some sleep. You'll need it, we're up early tomorrow."

"I thought you didn't like me to help you in a morning. Why have you changed your mind now?"

Enjolras sighed, wondering what he could reply with.

"Because you spoke to me as an equal, not as a slave speaking to his master," he said quietly. "And besides, you're coming out with me tomorrow. We need to get you some more clothes if we're heading out into the countryside. It can be cold this time of year."

Grantaire waited until Enjolras was in bed before lying down on his pallet, staring up at the dark ceiling.

"Thank you," he said finally, the noise of Enjolras shifting on the bed the only thing telling him that his master was even awake and listening.

"Why?" The single word cut through the silence like a knife.

"I may not like being a slave, but I don't have a choice. And if I have no choice, then I'd rather be accepted as who I am instead of you trying to mke me someone I'm not. You cannot treat me as a freeman when I am a slave."

"Fair enough," said Enjolras softly. Rolling over he closed his eyes and sighed again. The conversation from that night was going to make his getting over Grantaire an awful lot harder.


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras and Grantaire found themselves growing more comfortable around each other by the time they were returning to the house late the following morning, each carrying an equal amount of the supplies they'd had to go shopping for. Grantaire had long since given up trying to protest, not only at the amount of work Enjolras insisted on helping with but also the clothes he had bought for his slave, knocking down all arguments about it being too much for Grantaire to accept.

"I don't want you to get ill because of the cold," Enjolras pointed out, "and there's far too much stuff here for one man to carry. I'm just as strong if not stronger than you, and just as capable of carrying things."

In fact, Grantaire mused, if it weren't for the fact that Enjolras's tunic was clearly more expensive than his, the pair would simply have looked like two slaves running errands.

They even conversed for the first time, nothing personal but Enjolras was determined Grantaire should learn more about the society and city he'd been brought to live in. He pointed out any notable buildings they passed, warned him which traders to watch out for in the market, and even introduced him to slaves at the nearest baths, instructing them to allow Grantaire in whenever and simply charge it to Enjolras when he next visited. Grantaire couldn't believe his apparent luck in masters.

"Your mother wants to see you," Bahorel informed Enjolras as soon as they were home, stepping forwards to take his master's burdens. "She said it's important. Your tutor is here as well."

"Valjean?" Enjolras frowned when Bahorel nodded. "Okay. Thanks. Make sure Grantaire gets something to eat before too long, and I'll help you put the rest of this away when I'm finished through there."

"Is he always like this?" Grantaire asked after a few minutes of silence.

"How do you mean?"

"Kind to the slaves. Helping out constantly. Up until last night he did his best to refuse to allow me to actually do any jobs. He's the complete opposite of what I was warned Roman's were like."

"He's from Gaul too," Bahorel explained. "Him and all his friends. At least, their fathers were. Now Courfeyrac's parents are proud of the fact they raised themselves up out of nothing, but for this family and Combeferre's it's a shameful secret they like to keep quiet. Courfeyrac is the only reason the boys speak their home language. Enjolras likes to shun his Roman upbringing because he hates his parents."

"He bought me too many clothes," Grantaire sighed, looking down at the bundle in his hands.

"You'll be out there for a few weeks," Bahorel warned. "That's why. If you're unlucky, you'll be the only slave as well. You'll be thankful for having lots of clothes when you reach the stage of being too tired to want to wash them."

"I can't cook," admitted Grantaire, staring at the more experienced slave in horror.

"Enjolras can."

"But-"

"It's not his job?" Bahorel interrupted, laughing when Grantaire nodded. "He doesn't care. Merope taught him everything she knows, so he's the second best cook in this household. He always insists on cooking when he's in the countryside without his parents. Now come on, let's get you some food. Merope made sure to save you some at lunch, just in case."

* * *

"What do you want mother?" Enjolras demanded as he entered the room.

"Valjean was just explaining to me how you and the boys could do without losing any study time, seeing as you could be meeting the emperor next week."

"I explained all this to you myself last night mother," Enjolras sighed. "You just don't listen to me."

"Anyway, he's convinced me that you all need to stay together for a while. So I was thinking you could invite them to join you at the house. Valjean as well. It'll do you good to have some company out there, seeing as you only ever travel there on your own."

For the first time ever, Enjolras didn't argue against one of his mother's suggestions.

"I'll go ask them to join me now," he said quickly, turning and running for the door. Valjean chuckled lightly.

"I knew he'd agree to that one Julia," he smiled. "When is he planning to depart then?"

* * *

"Oh hell yeah!" Courfeyrac grinned, punching the air excitedly whilst the rest of the friends laughed.

"Sounds perfect," Combeferre smiled.

"Agreed, but what sort of diseases do they have out there?" Joly was, as always, his usual worried self.

"Nothing different to what we have here," Enjolras reassured him. "You won't die." The doctor nodded quietly to himself, wisely saying nothing about his fears. "There's some interesting people in the next town that you'll probably all get along with as well. It'll be good to see them again."

"Ah, would these be the students and freedman you've mentioned before?" Combeferre asked, Enjolras nodding in reply. "I look forward to meeting them then."

"When do we sail?" Courfeyrac interrupted.

"Next week, two days after the Emperor is making the rounds of the forum. And yes, you can bring slaves but I'd really prefer it if you didn't treat them as such whilst we're there. Hell, I'd prefer it if you didn't bring any at all, but I know you may not have a choice in the matter. I don't."

"Is Valjean coming?"

"Yes," Enjolras replied to Joly's quiet question. "So we can still plan, we'll just have to be careful about it. As always, speak to no-one of our plans. It must stay between us four and Bahorel. Understood?"

"We're not stupid enough to risk this," Combeferre sighed. "We know what's at risk. None of us want to die Enjolras."

* * *

_"_ _How you kids doing?" Dr. Eric Westworth bent down to look inside the trench once more. "Found the whole thing yet?"_

_"We've found half," Rhian answered absentmindedly. "Still looking for the other half."_

_"Look at this! Second skull!" Pete cried excitedly, beckoning his friend closer. "There's more than one person buried here."_

_"Let me know when you've found them both," their teacher instructed. "Then we can get to identifying if they're male or female and ages."_

_"Yes sir," Rhian replied, lifting the second skull as gently as she could, marking on her diagram exactly where it had been found._

_"So, it's a joint grave, maybe it's a couple," Pete murmured once Dr. Westworth had left._

_"And there was me thinking girls were meant to be the romantic ones," Rhian laughed, smiling at her friend as he winked._

**Author's Note:**

> Latin stuff in case you don't know it:  
> Dominus/Domina - master/mistress  
> peristylium - colonnaded garden  
> triclinium - dining room


End file.
